Tag: wip

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

This is taken from something new I’m working on.

 

The ladies of the house were versed in all the fine arts. Music, dance, flower arranging and necromancy. Nowadays there wasn’t much call for raising the dead, but once my grandmother said, it was a perfectly acceptable line of work.

I’d never had reason to want to bring someone back from the dead until now.

Except that, wiser heads in my family forbade it. Too much could go wrong.

As I sat on the floor, at the center of a circle of salt with four candles burning at each of the four directions and began to chant, my black cat, Raven, darted into the room disrupting the circle of salt and setting back my spell work.

“Raven!”

It’s not much… but its a project I’m very excited about.

 

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

This is taken from PENDRAGON which I’m struggling with right now. Hopefully it comes together by the August 9th deadline.

“Mordred!” I looked up, to find Macha running towards me. The wind blowing her raven locks into her eyes, forcing her to stop and brush her hair back behind her ears.

“Ems,” I greeted.

“Guess what?”

“Um…” I pretended to think. “I give up. What?”

“Queen Mab has said I can attend tonight’s solstice ball.”

I smiled. Knowing Mab as I did, meant I knew why Macha had been allowed to attend.

At nineteen Macha was considered of age amount fey kind. But I knew something Queen Mab didn’t about her youngest daughter.

Macha liked girls. I knew because I’d caught her with Evanthe in the stables when they thought nobody else was around.

Which would possibly put a spanner in tonight’s festivities. If I was correct in my assumptions, there was only one reason, I could think of as to why Queen Mab would allow Macha to the Solstice Ball. She’d found a suitor and was planning on marrying Macha off — tonight.

And Macha wouldn’t be happy. She’d be pissed. Her temper was well known throughout the Winter Court.

Yes! I’m attempting to bring this weekly series back and start sharing snippets of what I’m writing. Which at present is mostly drabbles and my NaNoWriMo novel…

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

This is taken from a scene in my NaNoWriMo novel Gilded Roses that I’m working on today.

Set in-between the Summer and Winter Courts, sits a garden of wild roses the colour of blood and death. Red and black blooms point their way towards the sun even though it was nearing midnight. I didn’t know why I was here or who had beckoned me and it scared me, just a little. Faerie was still new to me and despite the crown that had been thrust upon my head, I knew without a doubt I had enemies. I was about to turn and ran when a woman carrying a lantern came and stood before me.

“Saoirse, we meet at last.”

The woman in grey brought the lantern closer to her face. She appeared young and old at the same time. Simply ageless.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.”

“I am Scathach. Queen of the Spring Court. Sister of Aoife, the Autumn Queen. But don’t let your opinions of her, sway you when making up your mind about me, I am not my sister.”

“Okay.”

“I wish to help you,” she said. “I’ve heard whispers that a certain former Queen is still alive. I’ve long suspected Tanaquill of wanting to gain control of more than just her own court. I suspect the choice of her grandson being wedded to you, was not simply by chance. Wherever Oona is, I suspect it’s got Tanaquill’s hands all over it.”

I had to be smart. I couldn’t reveal anything. After all, Scathach could just be fishing for information on Tanaquill’s behalf. I didn’t know this world, nor the people in it. Not well enough anyway.

“Whispers?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “A good queen has spies everywhere. One of my maids overheard one of your guards telling a kitchen hand that he required food for the prisoner he was charged with. Said the prisoner’s name was Oona. There are not many people in these parts with a name like that. The Kingdom laid down a decree that banned the use of any name born by the current King and Queen of each of the four courts from the moment they begin their reign to the time they die. Even if disposed there will not be another little Oona in these parts any time soon.”

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

It’s June! Which means we in Oz are in the throes of Winter. It’s been raining pretty consistently for the last week. Kinda over it to be honest. However, the sun is out today, and I’ve been able to write, which means I’m able to share.

I’ve picked up where I left off on the previous piece for the hell of it. I’m actually thinking of sharing this story piecemeal as its written. Which means it’s going to be raw and unedited.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below… or like… to let me know if you want to see future installments.

But Evie never was good at playing by the rules.

Rolling her eyes at him as he sat down in the booth opposite her, Fletcher grinned. “Hey Sis, how’s things?”

“Fine,” she muttered. “What brings you to my booth?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d check in. See how my little sis is doing.”

Evie rolled her eyes once more. “What do you want, Fletcher?”

“Oh, it’s not what I want,” he said. “It’s what they want.”

“They?” Evie asked, confusion marring her face. “But…”

“Apparently,” Fletcher continued, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Our aunt speaks very highly of you.”

“Our aunt?” Evie asked, while across the table, Fletcher nodded.

“And she’d like an audience with you.”

“Me!” Evie squeaked. “Why me?”

Fletcher shrugged. “How should I know? Perhaps she’s got a potential suitor already picked up, ready and waiting for you to walk down the aisle… they do have aisles in Arcadia, don’t they? I mean you could do worse.”

“I could do worse?” Evie’s nostrils flared. “’Course you would think marriage to one of the fair folk was a perfectly acceptable solution given there aren’t enough pack members to go around, wouldn’t you? Why don’t you marry one then?”

“Because Eves,” Fletcher said. “I’m not the one of the last surviving Quinn females on the North American coast.”

“What’s blood got to do with any of this?” Evie demanded.

“Everything.”

So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

Wow! Has it been a month already since I last shared? That’s insane. Time flies… as they say. Apologies, I guess I’ve been busy throughout May than I originally thought.

So, on that note… here is a small excerpt of something that may never see the light of day. This is an abandoned opening, but I still love it. If you like it and think it has merit and I should develop it into a full story, let me know by liking and or commenting.

Evie sat in the corner booth waiting, idly playing with the straw in her drink. She was bored and she’d only been here ten minutes. But that was the problem with small towns. Nothing ever happened and on the odd chance that something exciting did happen, it was almost always short lived.

So, she either had to find an excuse to get out of town and head to the city, or find someone who would be willing to entertain her for a few hours.

And that was the other thing about small towns. It was impossible to date. Everyone available was either one of three things… too old, family or someone her parents didn’t approve of.

It was the third reason that bugged Evie most of all and gave her the most incentive to want to get out. It wasn’t as if she needed her parent’s approval in regards to who she dated, but the elders of the pack had strict rules as to what the younger generation could and couldn’t do.

All because some alpha over in Belfast got himself got himself into a tangle with the daughter of the faerie queen. Suffice to say it didn’t end well and a lot of people died. Of course, those actions had ripple effects which had trickled down to the American packs.

Rule #36: No werewolf shall at any time enter into a relationship with one of the fair folk.

To do so would mean excommunication. And a werewolf without a pack was dicey. Without protection of other pack members anything could happen.

So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

I’m struggling to share again this week because I’ve been finishing up Le Fay and readying it for publication but I can share something else.

This is a snippet taken from an unpublished novel that Morgan features in as a side character. It’s not evident here, as she appears later on. But it’s still where it all began…

*I may have started writing this story after being inspired by the movie 10 Things I Hate About You starring Heath Ledger. Despite the fact that he died too young I still consider him one of the best actors to come out of Perth, Western Australia.

Isabeau stepped down from the curb, her arms full of books. She was rather keen to drive home for the weekend and forget all that had happened at school the previous week. Only when she looked up she came face to face with a guy gawking at her. He was leaning across the hood of her canary yellow Jetta and while she could have sworn she’d seen him before she couldn’t recall where or when.
“Nice car,” he said with a smile that went all the way to his eyes. It was then that Isabeau remembered where she’d seen him. He’d been lingering on the school grounds earlier that day; although how he had remained unnoticed by both staff and students alike was a mystery.
“Are you following me?” Isabeau asked ignoring his compliment of her car. The Jetta was anything but nice; it certainly wasn’t new and if she’d had her way it would have at least been given a new paint job but as her father had been the one to buy the vehicle it would have to wait until she could come up with cash of her own.
“No. I was across the street, saw the car and figured I’d introduce myself,” he said as he extended his hand. “Name’s Lincoln Aster.”
Isabeau eyed his outstretched hand warily but didn’t shake it. “Because of the car?”
“Yes,” Lincoln let his hand drop back to his side.
“Right.” Isabeau shifted the pile of books in her arms, pulled the car key from her pocket as Lincoln moved across the body of the car to block her path to the driver’s side door.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“Should I be?”
“Most people are,” he admitted.
Isabeau scoffed. “I’m not most people.”
“Clearly,” Lincoln noted as he moved aside just as another car came and parked at a ninety degree angle to her own. A guy with frosted blonde hair stepped out.
“Oh, come on!” she called. “Do you mind?”
A young man, no older than twenty-five, winked in Lincoln’s direction and Isabeau stared at him, mouth agape. “Not at all.”
Isabeau got in her car, and closed the door.
“What are you doing? You can’t―”
But Isabeau ignored his outburst, choosing instead to turn the key, gun the engine and shift the car into reverse before hitting the accelerator and rather violently shoving the other car out of the way.
“Oops! Guess I just did,” she said. “Seeya ‘round Lincoln.”
“Yeah seeya,” Lincoln muttered aloud as he watched Isabeau drive away.
“I hope that the girl was well worth the damage that was done to my car,” he said as he approached Lincoln.
“Yeah, she’s definitely worth it Jake,” Lincoln replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll find away to fix the car.”
“You’d better man, ‘cause as of right now I’m walking and you know how I hate walking.”
“You won’t be if we head over to Sam’s and get him to bring the tow-truck,” Lincoln replied.
“Now you’re thinking on your feet angel-boy,” Jake said.

So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

 Its hard to share what I’ve been working on this week when all the stories have been sent out pending publication. To either be accepted or rejected.

So, instead, I’m sharing a snippet from the same universe as the one I shared last week. This takes place during Dragonsblood. Just prior to Queen Mab being killed.

*The asylum is modelled off Kew Asylum in Melbourne, Australia.

Ash put the key into the lock and turned the key. The locking mechanism turned with an audible click and the door was opened. Twisting the doorknob Ash throws open the main doors.

I step over the threshold and shove my emotions aside. Being back at Wellesmere wasn’t my idea of fun and if there had been any other alternative I would have gladly taken it, but Wellesmere was the only place with enough rooms and living space to house everyone.

“Ever think in a million years we’d see the inside of this place again Scarlett?” Ava asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

Walking inside, I can’t help but notice the fine layer of dust which coats the wooden floor boards, my shoe prints can be seen making a trail behind me. “Welcome to Wellesmere. Originally home to the mentally insane, it once moonlighted as a juvenile detention centre in lieu of a mystical holding cell for yours truly. I’d give you the history of the building as Sister Bernadette told it to me but frankly, I tuned her out within the first five minutes.”

“You lived here?” Ella asked stepping across the threshold.

I shrugged. “Three years off and on.”

“And you’re sure they won’t think to look for us here?” Mordecai asked.

“I can’t say for certain what they’ll do,” I said. “But, this place is a far better alternative than Cornwall.”

“Is it?” Emrys asked. “Because Tintagel seems really good right about now. The place is legendary.”

“And old, really old,” Robin put in. “No offence Sorcha.”

Sorcha Donovan snorted, clearly displeased. Tintagel, according to Zooey, was her grandmother’s ancestral home.

So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

Alright, so in the interest of doing something different and keep my blog from getting stale, I thought it couldn’t hurt to throw a 500 word excerpt from my latest Work-in-Progress or WIP.

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

This particular scene came about while I was writing a short story for submission to an anthology. I actually mentioned it on my Facebook page. I hate killing off characters, I really do. So much so, I either put it off, or wind up being upset for days afterwards. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where I haven’t cried when killing of a character. Funeral’s suck, by the way. In almost thirty six years on this earth, I’ve been to far too many of them. I can count thirteen off the top of my head.

In this scene which will probably feature somewhere in my Eldritch, Scarlett has just found out that her older brother, Atticus has died in a car accident and she’s chosen, to everybody’s shock, to carry on with the trip to Cornwall. Instead of staying behind and dealing with her grief. (Zooey is fey and telepathic)

Scarlett sat outside on the stairs of the deck, listening to the same song over and over on her phone. It was off, what would now become, her brother’s last ever album.

As she listened, tears glistened, but she refused to let them fall.

“You’d think she would have broken by now,” Zooey said.

“And why’s that?” Ash mused. “Red’s stronger than she looks.”

“Strong on the outside maybe,” Zooey agreed. “But I don’t know about on the inside. She’s sitting out there listening to the same song on repeat.”

“And you know that how?” Ash asked before it dawned on him. “Never mind. I forgot who I was speaking too.”

And with that he stood up and headed outside to join Scarlett. When he sat down next to her on the steps, she turned and looked at him, taking one of the earbuds out.

“Are you okay?”

Scarlett lent her head on his shoulder and Ash wrapped and arm around her.

“I am now,” she said. “You can tell Zooey; she doesn’t have to worry. I’m fine… really.”

“She said that you were listening to the same song on repeat,” he said. “Scarlett, that’s not… fine.”

“It’s a bonus track,” Scarlett said. “Acoustic. I just wanted to hear his voice without all the backing vocals distorting it.”

A lone tear zig zagged down her cheek to her chin. “I’m not going to break, Ash.” She shook her head. “I can’t afford to.”

“You don’t have to be here. It’s not as if we can’t handle the dragons without you.”

“No,” Scarlett said softly. “I’m not going home so that I can sit around and do nothing. I’ll go crazy.”

“Scarlett,” Ash chided as Scarlett stood up.

“I’m staying. End of story,” she said. “Tell Zooey she can keep her nose out of my business from now on. I don’t need a baby sitter, Ash. I’m fine. In the event that that changes, you’ll be the first to know, but until then…”

Ash sighed. “Until then, you’re just going to continue to do exactly what you’re doing and ignore your pain.”

“I’m not in pain.”

“No?” Ash asked standing up. “There’s a room full of people in there who say otherwise. They’re not stupid or blind. They see you. And he was your brother, for crying out loud. Regardless of your relationship with him, he was your brother and you loved him. You can’t just shut yourself off to everything you’re feeling and pretend it’s all okay, when it’s not.”

“Yeah, well…” Scarlett paused. “Atticus is dead. And if pretending that he’s not is going to get me through the next six days until the funeral, then so be it. I don’t want to break Ash, I really don’t.” She smiled through her tears. “But by all means, bring me back to reality, because God knows the real world hasn’t dumped on me enough already.”

 So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!